Must Like Kids

“Actually, you’ll clear your schedule, and I’ll get back to you with talking points and suggested attire.”

“You’re going to pick out my clothing?” He rose to his feet. He didn’t look happy at the prospect. A lot of clients, especially those who came to her under duress, didn’t like being told how to dress. She couldn’t blame them, but that didn’t change anything.

“You can wear whatever you want to the office or on your own time,” she told him. “But for these events, yes, I’ll be picking out your clothes. What you wear needs to help convey the message we want to send.”

“What messages are my clothes sending?”

She glanced down and swallowed an inappropriate sigh. She managed to sound completely professional when she replied, “They tell me you take a great deal of care with your appearance and that you have the means to buy what you want, regardless of the price tag.”

“And that’s bad?”

“Most of the people buying Best For Baby’s products can’t relate to your lifestyle, Alec.”

He folded his arms over his chest. “Are you calling me a snob?”

“I’m not calling you anything.”

“But that’s what you think?”

“What I think isn’t the issue here. That’s the signal you will send if we’re not careful. It’s all about image.”

She braced for further argument, but he said, “You’re the expert.”

“Yes, I am.”

Julia wasn’t fooled by his easy capitulation. She and Alec McAvoy were going to butt heads a lot before their association ended. In a perverse way, she was looking forward to it.

TWO

It was like playing a chess match, Alec thought. Or maybe a game of blink, waiting for the other person to close their eyes first. It was a bit galling when he was the one who did.

Julia Stillwell was a surprise. And not just because she was five and half feet of tidy curves tucked into a creamy silk blouse and conservative navy pencil skirt. She was pretty, nonthreatening. The girl next door. She disarmed her opponents with a cherubic smile, dimples included, that took one’s mind off her waspish sting. But the real kicker was the unsettling amount of attraction he felt for her. It had landed like a prizefighter’s punch to the midsection the moment he’d walked through her door. He was still struggling to regain his footing.

Fifteen minutes into their meeting, she glanced at her watch—though he didn’t doubt for a moment that she already knew the exact time—and said, “I have to be going, but I’ll be in touch tomorrow morning.”

“Hot date?” he asked, just to see if he could rile her. No one should be that composed. And, okay, he was curious, too.

She didn’t look the least bit ruffled. In fact, the smile she sent him was relaxed and filled with humor. “Of a fashion.”

What in the heck did that mean?

A couple of pictures were propped on her desk, but from his position, Alec couldn’t make out their subject matter. Were they of her husband? No. He hadn’t noticed a ring on her finger, and he’d made a point of looking. A lover, then?

Irked by his own curiosity more than by her evasive response, Alec said, “Isn’t it a little early to be knocking off for the day. It’s not even five o’clock.”

Still standing, she bent and logged off the computer, but not before clicking on a file. On the credenza behind her, the printer fired to life and began spitting out pages.

As she turned around to collect them, she asked, “How late do you work?”

“Until six at least, seven on occasion.” In truth, he’d been known to stay past eight and was on a first-name basis with his building’s cleaning crew and the night security detail.

“For a total of how many hours a week?”

“Usually fifty to sixty.” Or, as had been the case the previous week, seventy-five.

She shook her head. Her expression said, I thought so.

“Well, I put in forty hours at my office. Never more than forty. I start my day early so that I can be out of here early.” She glanced at her watch again. “In fact, today I’ve stayed five minutes late. To accommodate you.”

She tapped the papers she’d gathered into a neat pile and reached for the stapler. Her efficient movements were the perfect complement to her words.

“Don’t you ever clock some overtime? I would think, given the urgency of my situation and what you are being paid to address it, that you would be happy to log a few extra hours here and there.”

He’d hoped that would get a rise out of her, but he wasn’t successful. Not completely, anyway, although he did detect a slight edge to her tone when she told him, “I believe in balance. I have a life. In fact, my personal life has been known to take precedence over pulling in a paycheck when that’s what I feel is warranted.”

“The perk of being your own boss?”

“That’s right. I made a decision a long time ago that my children would come first.”

“You have children?” he blurted out, immediately aware of how the question came across. Sure enough, Julia’s expression tightened.

“Two, but don’t worry. They’ve had all their shots.” She turned the photographs on her desk around. A pair of elementary school-age kids smiled back, one of each sex, both sporting their mother’s deep dimples.

“Sorry.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.

She nodded. “You’ve had to do a lot of apologizing lately where children are concerned.”

“I’ve got nothing against kids.” God help him. He was starting to sound like a broken record.

She nodded again. “Here’s a tip. Free of charge. My job here is what I do. It’s not who I am, which is why I choose not to spend every waking hour at it. There’s more to life than work, Alec.”

“You sound like my mother.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Julia replied.

He hadn’t intended it as one. Her wry expression told him she suspected as much. Alec’s parents lived extravagantly and well beyond their means. Even before he had graduated from college, they had burned through his mother’s substantial inheritance. If not for his paternal grandfather’s interference, they would have wound up homeless and penniless, and Alec would have been forced to drop out of his Ivy League school before receiving his degree.

Granddad was gone now, but before he’d died he’d made sure to put the money he left in a trust, one that Alec administered. As such, his parents had to come to him for everything. Neither party was particularly happy about it.

Indeed, that was why Alec had arrived late to his appointment with Julia. Just prior to leaving his office, his mother had phoned him in a panic. Even though they were only a week into June, she and Alec’s father needed more money. They’d used up their generous monthly stipend to purchase airline tickets—first class, of course—and book a two-week stay with friends at an exclusive resort on a small, private island in the Caribbean. They didn’t leave for another week and now they had nothing left to buy groceries. Nor did they have any spending money for their trip.

He’d put down his foot. Or he’d tried to. Finally, to get his crying mother off the phone, Alec had agreed to transfer an additional seven grand into his parents’ bank account. He’d held firm on the amount, even when she’d insisted they needed at least ten thousand.

“Be reasonable, Alec. How can your father and I have a proper vacation with so little to spend?” she’d demanded.

“Order a glass of wine with dinner instead of a magnum of champagne,” he’d suggested. “And don’t buy a round of drinks for the entire nightclub.”

“You’re such a stick in the mud, Alec. All you do is work. You don’t know how to have fun,” Brooke had sighed before relenting and hanging up.

His parents would have their vacation, and he would have a little peace and quiet—a reprieve of sorts until the next phone call reporting a crisis. And there would be another one, Alec knew. They came as regularly as gusts of wind in Chicago.

Thinking of the conversation now, he assured Julia, “I know how to enjoy myself away from the office.”

“Yes. That came through in the article,” Julia replied dryly. “Your ex-girlfriend mentioned that the pair of you enjoyed first-class travel, fine dining, golf.”

“Is there something wrong with that?” He might not take vacations as often as his parents or for as long as they did, but when he took one, he enjoyed himself.

The corners of her mouth turned down in consideration. Julia had nice lips. Soft. Full. They were one of her most inviting facial features...even when she was frowning at him. “On the surface, not a thing. Except that her children weren’t involved.”

His voice rose and, despite his best efforts, his tone turned defensive. “Laurel didn’t want them involved. That was her call. It was her decision.”

At nine and eleven, Laurel’s two daughters were miniature versions of their mother, and as such, extremely high-maintenance, which was why Laurel preferred to leave them to their nanny.

“Did you ever try to change her mind?”

“Does it matter?” he asked.

“To me? No. To the public, it would, yes.”

He exhaled in frustration now. “Look, I’ve never claimed to be a family man. I’m a businessman. A damned good one, in fact, which is why Best For Baby brought me on board. The company needed a qualified executive. My personal life shouldn’t be an issue.”

“It wouldn’t be if you hadn’t opened your mouth and made it one,” Julia shot back without missing a beat. “Which brings us back to square one, Alec.”

He cursed and returned to his seat. He hated that she was right. As he scrubbed a hand down his face, Julia was saying, “You can’t change what you said. It’s on the record and will be winging around cyberspace indefinitely. What we can change is your image going forward.”

“I know.” His hand fell away, but it curled into a fist at his side, mirroring the position of the left one.

“Good.” She continued to drive home the point. Her tone became instructional, perhaps to offset the censure inherent in her words. “To the baby-product-buying public, you are the epitome of a playboy. You have the position and enough power and wealth to subsidize a very adult lifestyle. It doesn’t hurt that you grew up in privilege.”

He snorted at that. Sometimes privilege was just another word for lonely.

She was saying, “Golf, fine dining, first-class travel at all-inclusive resorts not known for their child-friendly amenities—these are very adult activities. As such, they aren’t going to help us convince the broader public that you understand family life or its particular needs.”

“So you’re going to have me be seen out and about in public, kissing babies. Got it.” He sighed and made his hands unclench.

“That’s not exactly the attitude I’m hoping you’ll project.”

“I’ll work on it,” he grumbled.

She made a humming noise. Then her gaze narrowed. “How about a test run this evening?”

He frowned. “I’m not following you.”

“What do you have on your schedule for six o’clock?”

He did a mental check of his calendar. “A meeting with the head of the accounting department at five to go over some expense report irregularities. I don’t know if it will be concluded by then.”

“Really? A meeting after regular business hours? You can’t be a very popular boss.” She shook her head, forestalling his reply. “Can you reschedule it?”

“I guess so,” he said slowly. “Why?”

Those full lips bloomed into a smile that managed to be sexy despite the calculating gleam in her eyes. “Have you ever been to a T-ball game?”

* * *

What was she thinking, inviting Alec to join her at the game?

Julia asked herself the question a dozen times as she maneuvered through traffic after picking up her children from St. Augustine’s after-school program. Her goal was that Danielle and Colin never had to spend more than two hours there on any given day. Except during the summer. In another week, the school year would wrap up, and her children would be spending three days a week there, with the other two at their grandparents’ just outside the city.

Guilt nipped, as it always did, even though it couldn’t be helped. She was a working mother, the sole breadwinner. The after-school program wasn’t a bad one. The kids went on field trips to places such as Chicago’s Field Museum of Natural History, Navy Pier and the John C. Shedd Aquarium. But before they were born, Julia had pictured their lives differently. She’d planned to be a stay-at-home mom. For a brief time she had been. Then Scott had gotten sick and plans had changed.

“What’s for dinner?” Colin asked from the backseat as she brought the car to a stop at a light.

“Turkey grinders from Howard’s Deli,” Julia replied, deciding not to add that they would be on whole wheat buns with slices of tomato and green peppers and shredded lettuce to at least make them a somewhat balanced meal.

In the rearview mirror, she watched his face scrunch up. “Can’t it be cheeseburgers? Please, please, please!”

Danielle sighed, and in a superior tone, said, “He only wants the toy that comes with the children’s meal.”

She was nine, going on nineteen. It scared Julia sometimes, how serious and mature her daughter could be.

“You’ve got that line between your eyebrows, Mommy,” Colin observed. “Does that mean you’re thinking about it?”

To ward off further argument, Julia said, “Maybe.”

A snort sounded from the backseat. “When parents say they’re thinking about something or use the word maybe, it means no,” Danielle said. “Mom has been thinking about letting me go to art camp for a month now.”

Julia caught a glimpse of her daughter’s mutinous expression. “I am thinking about it. I haven’t ruled it out, Danielle.”

Where the camp was located and how much it cost weren’t what caused Julia’s stomach to drop. A full week away? Could Danielle handle that? Could Julia?

“I really want to go,” her daughter said quietly.

“I want to go, too!” Colin shouted. “Can I go, too, Mommy?”

“You can’t,” Danielle insisted. “It’s not for babies. Besides, you can’t even color inside the lines!”

Colin sent up a wail that rivaled a fire truck’s siren. By the time they reached the baseball diamond fifty-five minutes and one stop at the deli later, Julia had a raging headache. She barely had a chance to shift the car into Park before Colin was unbuckled and out the door.

“Hey! Come back and get your bag!” she called after him before he could get too far.

Julia had enough to tote, what with lawn chairs and a portable canopy that she kept on hand to shield them from the blazing afternoon sun. Danielle was of little help since she was carrying the bottles of water they’d picked up at the deli.

As Julia slammed the trunk closed, a slick, black sports coupe with tinted windows pulled into the parking space next to hers. It came as no surprise when Alec unfolded himself from the driver’s side of the

foreign-made two-seater. If a car could scream “no kids,” this one would.

He was still dressed in a suit, although he’d thought to loosen his tie. Mirrored, designer lenses shaded his eyes. His appearance said important. It said, I wield power. He looked like anything but a fun-loving family man.

“I’ve got my work cut out for me,” Julia muttered and forced a smile.

It didn’t help that the first words out of his mouth were a complaint. “It’s broiling out here.”

“Be thankful we’re the home team today. Fans of the visiting team will be looking straight into the sun for the entire game.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

She shrugged. “I told you to change your clothes.”

She had, happily trading in heels and a skirt for shorts and flat sandals when they’d grabbed dinner at the deli. “This is T-ball.”

“I didn’t have time to stop off at my apartment if I wanted make it here on time. Our meeting earlier aside, I do try to be punctual.”

She nodded her acceptance of what she figured he intended as an apology. “You might want to lose the suit coat.”

“No need to say that twice.”

As Alec shrugged out of it, she tried not to stare, but her gaze was pulled to the firm upper body showcased in the tailored cotton dress shirt. Genetics alone weren’t responsible for those shoulders or that chest. He might spend a lot of hours behind a desk, but he made time for exercise. When her gaze returned to his face, she realized he was watching her. One side of his mouth was lifted in amusement. Heat that had nothing to do with the soaring mercury suffused her face.

She cleared her throat. “The tie, too,” she added after he carefully laid the jacket over his car’s seat.

“You’re the expert.”

He freed the tie with a gentle tug. Even though they were out in public, the gesture came across as intimate.

What was she thinking?

This time, the question Julia posed to herself had nothing to do with her spontaneous invitation to the T-ball game and everything to do with feminine awareness. Hormones she’d forgotten she had, started to sizzle and snap to life. It was ridiculous. It was a relief, a small voice whispered. Flustered, Julia glanced away, only to have her gaze land on Danielle, who was watching her, too.

“Who is this?” her daughter demanded bluntly.

Julia would have a word with her later about her manners. For now she said, “This is Mr. McAvoy. He’s a client. Alec, these are my children, Danielle and Colin.”

Danielle was undeterred. “Why is he here?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” Colin said. “He wants to watch my game.”

“That’s right, champ.” Alec touched the brim of her son’s cap. The gesture came off as choreographed and his words sounded overly enthusiastic. While Julia gave him points for trying, his awkwardness around kids came through loud and clear.

Danielle rolled her eyes.

“We’re not champs.” Colin lowered his squeaky voice to a confidential whisper. “Just so you know, for T-ball, they don’t even keep score.”

“Oh.” Alec glanced over at Julia, his expression not so much sheepish as unnerved. No doubt about it. He was operating outside his comfort zone.

“Why is he here, Mom?” Danielle demanded again.

“Danielle,” Julia replied in a tone that was stern despite being soft. She sent an apologetic smile in Alec’s direction.

“It’s all right.”

It wasn’t, but Julia told her daughter, “Mr. McAvoy

doesn’t have children, but he needs to know a little bit more about them for his job. So, I have agreed to help him.”

“You’re not dating, though. Right?”

“No!”

“Good.” What was that supposed to mean? Danielle didn’t give Julia much of a chance to wonder, before adding, “So, we’re guinea pigs?”

“Actually, I think I’m the guinea pig,” Alec replied.

Danielle’s brows drew together in consideration. “Kids are a lot of work, you know.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Think you’re up to it?” she asked baldly. “Most single men aren’t.”

He glanced over at Julia, who smiled weakly. She’d never said as much out loud, but she was left to wonder if that was the message she’d been telegraphing.

“I hope so,” he answered. “My job is sort of depending on it.”

“You came to the right person,” Colin assured him with a gap-toothed grin. “Our mom knows everything.”

Alec wasn’t much for know-it-alls, but when they looked like Julia Stillwell, he was willing to make an exception, especially if her efforts succeeded in turning around his public image and professional future.

He had to admit, her kids seemed bright and well-adjusted...if a little outspoken in the daughter’s case. The apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree apparently. It was clear Julia loved them and, just as importantly, put them first. That was something his ex-girlfriend hadn’t done. Something his parents had never managed. The fact that she kicked off early on a regular basis and was willing to sit outside in the broiling sun at a T-ball game was proof of that. He couldn’t help wondering, what had happened to Mr. Stillwell?

The kids tumbled on ahead, Colin hoisting his equipment bag, Danielle carrying the water bottles.

Alec remembered his manners then.

“Can I carry something?”

“You can. Thanks.” Julia handed over a portable canopy. It folded up into a duffel bag that measured nearly four feet long. Alec frowned as he hefted it to his shoulder.

“This is heavy.”

“You can take the chairs, if you’d prefer.”

He bristled a little at that. “I’m not complaining. I’m just surprised you were able to carry this.” He

nodded to the chairs and her oversized purse. “And all that, too.”

“I’m a mom. We tote stuff around all the time.” She didn’t appear insulted as much as amused.

And sexy. Yeah, definitely sexy, with her sleek arms loaded in such a way that the strain caused her cotton T-shirt to pull across her breasts.

“Do I look frail?” she asked.

“You look...fit.” It wasn’t what he planned to say, but Alec figured the first adjective that had popped to mind might get him smacked.

They made their way to the diamond. Three small trees were staggered behind the home team’s bench. Every square inch of the meager shade they provided was occupied with people on blankets or seated in folding chairs.

“You’ve got to get here early to score a spot in the shade,” she said, noting the direction of his gaze. She nodded to the duffel bag he carried. “That’s why I bring my own. I learned that lesson the hard way the first year Danielle played.”

Her daughter had stopped to talk to a couple of girls who looked to be about her age.

“Does she still play?” Alec asked. She was a cute little thing despite her penchant for speaking her mind.

“T-ball? Not anymore. Too old. She played one year of coach-pitch baseball, but now she’s into soccer. She has a game on Saturday.”

“Are you telling me I need to clear my schedule again?” he teased.

Julia’s tone was thoughtful. “We’ll see. You might need another dry run, so to speak, before I turn you loose on kids who are more impressionable than mine.”

It was an interesting assessment. Alec wanted to be insulted, but before he could express any indignation, Julia was calling for her son to stop playing in the chalky dirt next to the home team’s bench. A couple of the other kids were doing the same thing, and their parents were after them too as soon as a stifling breeze kicked up and began carrying the dust out toward the spectators.

“Serious ballplayers, I see.”

The kids all wore bright orange jerseys and ball caps, sporting the sponsor’s name. If they were bothered by the heat or the now gritty air, they didn’t show it.

Julia laughed. The sound was pleasant, as was the way humor lit up her eyes and caused the dimples to dent her cheeks.

“Wait till they let ground balls slip by in the outfield because they’re too busy picking dandelions, or the game has to be stopped for a few minutes because the batter has lost a tooth.” She stopped walking and set down the chairs. “This is a good spot.”

Five minutes and one pinched finger later, the canopy was up and they were ensconced in a pair of relatively comfortable lawn chairs underneath it. Out of the sun, the heat was almost tolerable.

“How’s your finger?” she inquired politely. She’d been scanning the area, waving to this person and calling out a greeting to that one. All the while, she kept an eye on her kids.

Alec studied the purplish welt just between the first and second knuckles on his index finger. “No worse than my pride. How do you get this thing up by yourself?”

“I don’t. Colin and Danielle are too small to be much help, but I can usually recruit another parent or two to give me a hand.”

As if on cue, a large woman wearing a baseball cap and a shirt emblazoned with Logan’s Mom ambled into view.

“Hey, Julia, I was just making my way over to help when I saw you didn’t need me. So, who’s your new friend?”

She grinned at Alec, openly curious. He’d already noticed some of the parents casting furtive glances his way. Julia was going to have some explaining to do at the next game, he figured, amused.